


overcome

by race-jackson (Race_Jackson23)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Race_Jackson23/pseuds/race-jackson
Summary: overcome (/əʊvəˈkʌm/),verb:1. (of a feeling or emotion) overpower or overwhelm.2. succeed in dealing with (a problem or difficulty).alternatively: in which peter's having trouble coping and tony's there for him





	overcome

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is for the ironmanflashbang2018. I got prompt 23, AKA: _A has had a rough day in the suit and B is there to make it all better._ Many thanks to Ladydarkphoenix for organising this _and_ for dealing with all my dumb questions! You're great, honestly. Also, sorry to whoever requested this, you probably wanted something else but I'm a sucker for Iron Dad and Spider Son, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

By the time Peter makes it to the Compound, he’s drowning.

Noise pricks at his brain like some sort of shrill alarm system, raising the hairs on his arms and setting his teeth on perpetual edge. His ears buzz. There’s a tightness in his chest that just won’t go away, no matter how many times he tries to swallow it away, and his skin is on fire in that uncomfortably itchy way it gets when he needs to move but doesn’t know where or why. All he knows is that something is wrong and he needs to get to the Compound.

The beginning few days after being bitten by the spider at Oscorp had been like this. Before he’d learnt to focus himself, before he’d learnt to filter out the unnecessary and hone in on what was happening around him. Battered by the sounds and the smells and the _voices_ ( ~~somanyvoicessomanypeoplejustscreamingoutforhelp)~~ , the urge to scream nigh overwhelming, Peter had had no option then but to force himself to learn how to cope. Bit by painstaking bit, he’d built himself a semblance of calm in the storm that was his whacky annoying abilities, growing used to their presence as he started to learn to control them.

But after Thanos? After Peter had _died_ but _not died_?

Whatever grip he’d had on the abilities has slipped away. At the same time, though, he’s nowhere near as overwhelmed as when he’d gotten his abilities, or maybe it’s just that he isn’t overwhelmed as often. Perhaps he’s used to it by now, or perhaps his brain just hated him and wanted to play tricks – it doesn’t matter, really, because he’d gone out in the suit only to have it blindside him out of nowhere.

It wasn’t exactly conducive to fighting bad guys. He figures this out after they almost get the drop on him.

(Almost, because he’s still Spider-Man and he’s literally fought the guy who pretty much succeeded in destroying the universe.)

So he goes to the Compound. It’s quiet there these days, which is what he needs, and there’s bound to be another Avenger hanging around, which is another thing he needs. Distractions are good for staving off the mounting panic he feels in his chest, and nothing’s more distracting than an Avenger.

The Compound is abandoned in 2 a.m. quiet when he lets himself in. Like he thought, there’s no one about, the main hall silent except for the slight whir of tech. It’s deafening to Peter’s sensitive ears, though, and he bypasses it quickly, heading for the labs where he _knows_ there will be a genius or two.

And there is. Head bent over his workbench, Mr Stark – call me Tony – is completely immersed in his work. His hair is mussed from when he’s run his fingers through it and there are bags under his eyes that make him look like he’s been punched in the nose, but he’s awake nonetheless. Then he seems to realise that Peter’s there and he looks up, an eyebrow raised in askance.

Something in Peter’s chest _settles_. After Thanos, seeing Mr Stark always has that effect, like his brain has equated his face with _safety_. Really, after everything, it _is_. It becomes easier to breathe, and before he knows it he’s pulled off his mask and is stumbling into the lab.

Mr Stark catches him easily.

“Kid? You alright?” he asks, notes of concern in his voice. Peter tries for a casual shrug, but given the way Mr Stark hauls him off to the corner where there’s a comfy couch Peter has found himself at more times than he could count, it’s unlikely that it’s convincing. “Come on, I’ll get you something to drink.”

Peter just nods and curls into the couch. A moment later (or it seems like a moment later, but his idea of time went out the window when he’d first donned the suit), a mug of something that warms up his fingers is pressed into his hands, and he drinks it gratefully. It tastes like chocolate, but as if that chocolate was made by chocolate gods.

“No whiskey?” Peter jokes because it’s easier to joke when his heart-rate is starting to slow.

Mr Stark doesn’t seem to find it funny, which is a shock because Mr Stark finds a lot of things funny. “You are like five,” he says, flicking Peter’s nose. Shoving the teen a little to the side to make space, he drops a blanket over Peter’s shoulders then offers up something else.

“My mother used to make it for me,” Mr Stark says quietly as Peter sets his mug on the counter and takes the offering. It’s a set of headphones. “Only thing she could make in the kitchen. Everything else she let the cooks or Jarvis make.”

Looking up at Mr Stark, Peter asks, “What’s this?”

“They’re noise cancelling. To help with the–” Mr Stark gestures to his face. “–spidey sense … _thing_. You mentioned it before, that sometimes you needed help focusing because it gets too much, so I thought...”

There’s a lump in Peter’s throat as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he says thickly. Mr Stark only nods, squeezing Peter’s shoulder before going to get up off the couch. Peter’s quick to stop him, grabbing his wrist. As Mr Stark looks at him in askance, Peter can only bring himself to say, “Stay? Please?”

Mr Stark’s eyebrows do that weird thing they do whenever Peter does or says something friendly, like they can’t believe anyone would willingly spend time with him, before he clears his throat.

“’Course, kiddo,” he says. “I’ll just get my Tab.”

And when he gets back, they just sit there together, Peter with his headphones on and Mr Stark with his Tab. They say nothing, but then, they don’t need to.

It’s already that much better.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It ended up just the right length for the challenge, but I feel like I might expand and make it a bit longer. There's a bit more there to write, I believe. If you liked, leave me a comment here or let me know on Tumblr, where I'm @race-jackson.


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